Lycian Yolu - Turkey similar to Crimea

the Story about a campaign across Turkey on May, 10-20th 2011 (a route "the track Beginning")
What it will turn out if to take a freakish relief and relic vegetation of mountain part JUBK, sharply to increase all it in scales, to mix with abundance of sources and snow at tops of caucasus, generously to flavour with picturesque East hospitality and to add a little bit of colds and fogs of Altai?

It will turn out Lycian Yolu! It Lycian Way. It - the Likijsky track. Two years quiveringly leleemye me dreams took and became a reality - and scope "rjukzachnyh" wanderings on life at last has reached also distant Zagranichja. Pre-wanderings and anticipations. The beginning of so experimental and adventurous adventure was quite to itself every day. All the same lifting among the night, the first electric train in PervoPrestolnuju, the habitual unsightly reserved seat, habitual evening customs on the Ukrainian border. Yes-yes, I at first go to Ukraine, strangely enough, but air tickets to Antalya from Kiev it is possible to buy at very tasty price, and «to the mad tourist - seven versts not a hook». There is in nice hailstones Kiev so nice airport with the ridiculous name of Zhuljany. So "remarkable" that at once among trees and city buildings this imperceptible structure also you will not notice. Native provincial Vladimir's road service station and that likely will be more impressive. Inside at 2 o'clock in the morning silence and rest, having taken a nap who on micro-waiting room stools who on own backpacks, occasionally indulging itself quite tolerable at the price and quality of coffee, the future fellow travellers whiled away night to rassvetnogo a departure. With dawn first signs, as if by magic, the airport has woken up. Announcements of registration have begun to sound, the sleepy people were pulled to racks. All quickly, politely and accurately, borders are passed, the stall with a loud signboard «DutyFree» on the occasion of early morning is still closed - and here is already bright-crimson samoletik has directed in the bright orange sky. When has opened for a minute the closed eyes - under a wing already stately floated mountain ridges and in all boundless breadth Sredizeme became blue. 10. May. Greetings to you, coast Turkish! Fethie. Tanks and partridges the Woman-daga. In Antalya we were waited by solar morning, a warm and tender spring breeze, well and certainly Cyril and Sasha - leaders our small, but a nice army. After hour military meeting on definition of places of the future disposition the basic group with Sashej at the head has gone rasslablenno to walk by already studied and mastered East part of the Likijsky track, and the five courageous alternativshchikov has gone far on the West, to reconnoiter still little-used us tracks and unsolved ancient secrets of its opposite site. It is a little about actually «the Likijsky way». It is 500-kilometre "footpath" which is stretched from Fethie to Antalia. British Kate Klou in 1999 has laid and has developed it for fans trekkinga. Since then (sponsored by a certain Turkish bank) - the track is regularly updated and marked by certain enthusiasts. "Footpath" is transformed by places to a first coat, asphalt highway, prickly thickets, a canyon bottom, loose descents, multikilometer beaches - in general, on all tastes. Not to lose the way, duly marks, in visibility limits from one to another, labels a bright paint of colours of the Polish flag are visible. The indexes, what settlement following on constantly come across to your route and how many to it kilometres. Naturally on the most confused sites and marks and indexes wonderfully for a while disappear From the airport, successfully caught car quickly delivered us on Otogar - local road service station. Eyes hardly were in time - are not present, not to get accustomed, only to catch a sight unusual "foreign" life. Roads rovnenkie, sidewalks clean, huge concrete orange spheres at crossroads - it has appeared - a monument to an orange (!) (as vysnilos later - to put monuments to fruit and vegetables Turks in general love). The road service station in Antalya will be a bit more modest than the local airport with its fountain in the middle of a hall - but too very impressive and at the same time graceful construction. 10 minutes prior to bus departure tickets for the bus to Fethie are bought, the first Turkish lyres are spent for any road trifles, and has not had time to wink a dark blue eye have published Mediterranean sea as the road there and then has dived under a stone wing of Mountains! Sleepless night at the airport has affected also and echoes as always sharp cold suddenly picked up before the departure - I diligently stared in a window, but the organism foully failed in a dream. And snatched out by a sight rare minutes of wakefulness wonderfully reminded the favourite Crimea which only has been strange stretched in scales. Here mountain pass, stone stenochka and breakage in a canyon - well precisely piece of road Belogorsk-Privetnoe. Here an equal site among green fields with stiffened raznourovnevoj a wave of all shades dark blue in the distance - whether from Simfy in the Pike perch I go and whether Karabi in the distance sees? Here thickets (!) of a mighty relic juniper, a pine and stones - JUBK? However, cleanliness (!) of road and vicinities and in rare settlements on the way and out of them, at tops and indexes obviously not in an Ukrainian - periodically returned snow caps to a foreign reality. Turn, still turn, hour of long descent and silent greatness of mountains it was sharply replaced by vanity and raznotsvetem close city small streets. Having supported in local fast food, have found out that Turkish shaurma unlike Russian is quite edible, and to speak with local population in cities better in English, t.k on a phrase book Turks persistently do not understand our diligent Turkish pronunciation. The rocky necropolis of Fethie became the first antiquity which has opened to our look. It is considered that Likijtsy dead did not bury in the earth, and constructed tombs in the rocks, similar to nests so that, according to religious beliefs, to help the spirits similar to birds, to carry away to "light" a soul of the died. "Holes" in a rock of all kinds and the sizes, from usual niches to majestic constructions with porticoes, arches and the columns, reminding the Greek temple. For interested persons directly to touch an antiquity concrete steps (spoiling all landscape) are paved and the box with cash desk and a barrier, however wire zaborchik is put, a protecting necropolis sickly enough and it is easy and is imperceptibly passable «from back». By the way, a sad face and plaintive «No Money!» Too quite prokatjat as the admission on an input - it is checked personally up. Some more kilometres - and movings on transport for us are finished - and for a long time. Underfoot still while asphalt twists a streamer under the arches of pine wood, all further the suburb has sat down Ovachik, all is closer greatness of a bulk the Woman-daga. "Official" start of the Likijsky way is noted by the grandiose signboard for some reason standing near to road. Asphalt was replaced by a first coat, in half an hour definitively degenerated in a stony track and has begun tiresome, but assured "upwards". The the next "specific" turn is above located, the more scattered on a solar smooth surface of the sea of islands and islets opened to a sight. Any time for osvezhenija excited unusual while physical activity of bodies quite sufficed a fresh breeze and sosnovo-mozhzhevelovogo an aether. Thirst has come together with pleasant opening that water sources (they tanks) on the given site of a track are available much and forms they rather strange - a concrete cube of several metres in height and in a diameter with the iron hatch above and the capacity adhered to the hatch - a bucket or the canister. So on the move each half an hour it is quite possible to accept the improvised shower. Lepota - the solar sea on the right, elaborate stone stenochki at the left, paraglider pilots above - the whole clusters flit, a wind catch! Here only the hearing cuts a constant cackle any sumashedshej partridges somewhere in bushes ahead of us. Hour passes … two there passes … an invisible partridge all as ahead in bushes and so loud! Have put forward the version - it can at paraglider pilots a sacred bird it is considered:)) Turns in increasing frequency, marks please - all "wrong" turns are carefully marked by a red cross - «you there not hady …» At last the track vypolazhivaetsja also spreads - we on hills saddle. The next Turkish riddle - equal clearings all in the slightest degree are around partitioned diligently off on equal square sites stone bordjurchikami and zaborchikami. I will run forward - one of versions of their origin became clear more close by the night. Wide embraces of tops definitively hide the sea from a look. Any mysterious stone towers ahead rise. On closer examination «two strongholds» have appeared ugly enough concrete nedostroem - the semilock-semihouse, someone's future popmpeznyj "country house". Nearby on a hillside houses were stuck easier, all looks any deserted, thrown and left. We have hastened to leave more soon also this sad place, the blessing before dark remains less hour and it was time and to think of a lodging for the night. The suitable place was in upper courses of the leader to the sea of wide gorge, near the next small village. Directly at road a smart source, under a huge pine two more or less equal clearings just under pair tents - and that that they are covered by stones - it doesn't matter. Half an hour of "ritual dances» - and the platform already pure, and along the edges of it rises that ideally equal stone bordjurchik. The first night under another's stars. serebrjatsja in a moonlight white sides of mountains. The spark kosterka glimmers soft light. Vanity of city everyday life is definitively left behind. Total: There are passed 7,8 km. Ascent of 625 m. Dump of height of 180 m. Height of 780 m. n.u.m On May, 11th. Flight over a valley of butterflies. Garage and the Tavern. Mountains - they in Turkey mountains - luxuriate to themselves, substituting abrupt white sides to golden beams of a rising sun. Only it is for the present unusual that instead of the bird's twitter at a dawn you are awoken every morning with abstruse cries of Turkish religious church chanting. It is fresh and solar in the street, warmly on a shower, organisms podzapravleny morning porridge, feet are torn in a way - towards to adventures. doverjas to red-white marks above we have not got into upper courses of gorge (there too the confident marking conducts, but other colouring), have gone down downwards, have passed through small village Kozagaz, and along a mountain ridge on the left board of gorge have cheerfully swept on wide white shchebenistoj to a first coat downwards. Solar morning was short that - the easy veil of a fog from the sea has very soon outgrown in impressive clouds. The smooth bias of wide road bore all of us more low and more low from next ushchelitsa in a labyrinth of narrow small streets and terraces-ogorodikov of the next semithrown small village, each half an hour on a way came across kaptirovannye a stone sources with stream of water generously whipping from a pipe. On everyone a florid inscription of type - «a source such there Muslim sacred». Stony descent on a footpath on one hundred metres, the first comers people with backpacks - and we go into asphalt of Faralii. The village abounding with campings and pansionchikami, lemon and orange trees on the roadsides, generously covered with fruits, and on each a little-malskom equal plot of land between houses is by all means broken any bed with vegetable marrows or a potato. Hardly away from asphalt, having passed a barrier from grazed curious goats, we throw rjuki on a green lawn under the orange tree covered with fruits. Marina courageously remains on property protection, and the others, having supported with fresh vitamins, decide to go to have a look at the nearest beach. And the beach has settled down to itself in zhivopisnejshej dolinke, the squeezed palms of steep rocks. The head is turned from beauty, delight … and fear - when look at breakage in 250 metres downwards … and understand that in this bottom it is necessary to climb now. Where free lazaniem where being insured by someone carefully suspended ropes - the metre behind vertical metre remains behind. Shivering feet at last go into the equal surface which has generously grown with a cane in human growth. Thickets deduce to natoptannoj lengthways dolinki to a footpath where saunter there-here brought to "an unapproachable" bay on numerous yachts having a rest. An input from a beach the paid. An exit for managed to go down from village - free. It is considered that a valley - reserve where huge flights of butterflies of surprising beauty flit. Butterflies there really were - ten two. Usual greyish - whether not a season for them, whether the next advertising divorce. And here the beach of this dolinki is good!!! The easy-easy rustle of the cleanest azure waves has freshened tired feet - and there and then has instantly lulled! In the heart of a valley of butterflies there are rather beautiful falls, but to us to look at it today there was not a destiny. Heavens above fyrchali, frowned and periodically sprinkled small dozhdichkom, threatening just about to pass in a downpour. It was necessary to rise urgently, while stones dry. Lifting on the same has passed of 250 m is much easier and faster descent, have recovered the breath above, have taken vodichki, have thrown a farewell sight at a marvellous valley - and have gone to have dinner, than the Allah has sent. And the Allah in addition to habitual tourist sandwiches has sent us today rather tasty local salty cheese. Only had time to dress capes on backpacks and to make ten steps on asphalt - heavens were opened wide! Rather in time have dived under protection of the spacious concrete canopy which has appeared nearby. From a rain with us someone's car there hid. Garage without doors? Anyway - but henceforth we called any reliable and in time turned up shelter from a bad weather precisely garage. In half an hour we already a crackling pace left Faraliju, were reserved on suburb fresh vodichkoj and marks have carried away us on a track uphill under the arches of pine wood. Pleasure on lifting from wet stones, cones and needles underfoot and a cold shower from each branch over a head still that! Rose not for long, the track has deduced on a wavy first coat nasyshchenno red colour. About an hour the first coat smoothly swung us upwards-downwards on a picturesque green valley where ubiquitous stone terraces were closed by a huge amphitheatre. Well and the kind on the violet sea and dark blue islands too added beauty to a landscape. Heavens somehow nervously frowned, but have allowed to reach in relative dryness to us settlement with rather promising name for Russian hearing - the Tavern! As soon as have stepped under a micro-little shop roof - again livanulo! It was necessary to dive into garage under a canopy on a back verandah of a little shop - besides with a view of the sea. Not to miss, it wanted to drink something. For example, Turkish to tea. And forcedly also sat, drove teas in the Tavern the whole hour yes pechenitsem had a snack. The village in the middle index suggested to make a choice - or to go through mountains on top, or to go down to a beach. Have chosen the sea. Our choice probably was not pleasant to heavens, the rain has passed in a sad equal drizzle and was not going to stop. So also "pleasure" of descent on an abrupt path on wet needles and stones under the arches of wet wood it was necessary to take pleasure too wholly. The Tavern beach has appeared empty, grey, wet, deserted and on the romantic. The most romantic even delivered themselves pleasure to bathe in the rain. But night we all the same have decided to spend in heat and dryness of a nearby camping. The price for the close us close and leaking bungalows, possibility to prepare on gas in kitchen to eat prepared in a dining room, and in the same place to be heated at an oven, in general was indecently high for such hole. Well, yes it is fine. But in a washstand there bananas blossom Total: There are passed 19,2 km. Ascent of 880 m. Dump of 1490 m. Current height of 20 m. n.u.m On May, 12th. A canyon of Black stones. The gay? The road leaves deep into. … rain noise … has dreamt Me But, unfortunately has not dreamt. The rain drummed on a bungalow roof, on gravel of paths, and is especially inspired - on any, the shaitan brought under a small house wall, to an empty bucket. Drummed indefatigably and melancholy all night long and all the morning long - and only Cyril's knock at a door and the request to give out dried milk, have forced at last a female half pohodnikov to put out noses from sleeping bags. While were risen-stretched and had slowly breakfast, savouring the quite good Turkish coffee which was in a camping, in the street absolutely razvidnelos. Investigation has reported that required red-white marks begin at once on a back input in a camping. The path has confidently dived into wood, in five minutes forced on stones fast small river. The verbose index being close has confirmed - time is the river - there will be also a Canyon! The index offered two ways on a choice - difficult and short on a canyon bottom, or easy but long - upwards on one of boards. On a bottom after the 14-sentry of a rain it has been decided not to break and lomanulis we upwards - on a stone streamer, all above and above - to foggy black peaks propping up the sky. Junipers, zemljanichnikov and other relic vegetation - in huge abundance! White stones underfoot, the black arches over a head, grey clouds at tops - a shikarnejshe-ominous Gothic landscape. And darling pljazhik the Tavern again and again opens to a look all further and further below on each next coil of an abrupt streamer. On a flat saddle, on 444 metre of height, at last the grey severity was diluted with greens, harmoniously having weaved into a such picturesque rock-garden. Kostrishche, logs, nearby a skeleton of any construction - it is visible knowingly shepherds set up seasonal camp in so marvellous place. Even minutes twenty footpath quite hollow traversiruet the slope, crosses a small talus, becomes more widely and more reliably, and just by lunch time deduces on a glade with a spring. There and zavisli on hour or so with sandwiches, having scared away herd of local goats. A bit later have appeared vspugnutymi - pair the severe German pensioners who besides have overtaken for us on a track - so they also mountain bicycles with themselves pulled! The path is twisted to itself above and above, again the backpack creaks as … somehow very rhythmically it creaks;) - and a song to compose not for long: The backpack, as an old saddle creaks Feet are rubbed and the throat has got hoarse What for us, the sir, to Turks has brought? - To submit Lycia an ancient track! Let's-pora-will be glad on the century Reliability of tent and the friend kosterku While-while-shaking rjukom behind shoulders To destiny time and again we will whisper «mersi to a side» The grey fog picturesque dolinki on pass has very soon returned from meditations to the validity, the footpath has joined road through Alinca, the next village in three and a half the house. And with prigorochka near to next pansionchikom okryvalsja the KIND! Such that the jaw there and then fell downwards, rjuk fell to the ground, and hands flied up to phototechnics. Severe German pensioners the next time have caught up with us, have jumped on are great - and have jerked to itself downwards on an asphalt streamer, and all of us stood, both looked, and could not see enough … Meanwhile, the young local resident has decided to fasten conversation with new arrived. - «The Gay?» - he has joyfully questioned, addressing to Dime. - «eee … mee … is not present» - Dima obviously has not understood such statement of a question. - «The Gay?» - the guy not less cheerfully - to way which have already approached from investigation to Cyril has repeated. - «Yes, yes - the Gay can also! The gay it is interesting?» - Cyril's tone, to general surprise, was quite quiet and curious. It has appeared that the Gay is a settlement, below, at the sea, and it is possible to go there. And it is possible and not to go, and to curtail on a fork deep into from the sea, into mountains. Where to us it will be more interesting, have decided to solve on the way - and have jerked downwards on a streamer of asphalt of the most beautiful road, rasslablenno staring in admiration on the parties. While admired, the fork on the Gay remained behind and the road was pulled by an equal arrow on the north. When feet have already got a bit tired from equal asphalt, have passed a small small village, then the second, more largely, Bogazici, there even the correct shop is. With fresh bread and other appeared very opportunely vkusnostjami. Somewhere near to this settlement ruins of the Likijsky city of Sidima have got lost in a neighbouring amphitheatre of mountain ridges. At first the nice source with stone pool has been found, then picturesque terraska under parking, the weariness then has definitively prevailed, again was has dripped small dozhdichek - and searches of ruins has been decided to continue in the morning. The sun stately crept away for mountains, tops muffled up in crimson clouds, night has covered dolinku with a star coverlet, on slopes of tops mysteriously zamertsali mysterious sparks, giving food for long evening conversations at a fire. Total: There are passed 15,8 km. Ascent of 956 m. Dump of 727 m. Current height of 410 m. n.u.m On May, 13th. The grey-haired antiquities, full dozhdets and the Last Supper. The yesterday's beautiful decline has quite naturally turned back also the beautiful gold dawn completely corresponding to a today's small holiday. In camp the sleepy silence, a dawn, except the birthday woman reigned, especially nobody was interested, it can and to the best. To invariable porridge the improvised celebratory cake has been submitted - local chocolate halvah … mmm … fingers will lick! The pair of congratulatory toasts a tea mug - and us waits again the road and new adventures will not wait. It has appeared, there were yesterday on a lodging for the night we very successfully and in time - the following equal clearing was in akkurat opposite to an ancient cemetery. And waters above our parking it has not been found. Ruins of Sidimy (approximately the first century B.C.) are strongly destroyed and scattered on the considerable area - that the separate piece of a wall will get, the base, a fragment of a marble column underfoot. Is better tombs have escaped, strangely enough. For dead built more reliably, than for the live? Massive constructions from the integral stone blocks established on a pedestal, the semierased inscriptions on walls - and blows as a horrible stone cold and any … mysticism. Rough discussions as all it was under construction at once have begun, have in passing hit in an origin of pyramids of Egypt - brisk discussion threatened to be tightened for a long time. Started to burn the sun has reminded that it is time in a way, the path has deduced on suburb of village Dodurga. The village very hospitable, each local resident waves a hand, a seagull to drink calls. And here in village these artful Turks what for have washed track marks, and everyone specified a direction to us in Bel with pleasure - but - for some reason in the different party. The lap of honour on narrow small streets and a clay bottom aryka at last has been finished, the path has dived into wood, has begun so process favourite by all - lifting. Have soon crossed a dirt road, have a little walked upwards on equal, then again on a track have curtailed - that we as not tourists, on roads we go. In the middle of wood the equal football ground, even with collars was unexpectedly found out. Village on village battle? Or fibers against hares? On the way in village Bel have a little walked on a cloud. Or it has walked on us. But the end of the earth seemed at times quite real. And still to us periodically turtles pass road. To what it?;) Bel - village as village, with an invariable mosque, a minaret and a water source - to nostalgia reminded the automatic machine on sale of aerated water of times of the USSR. The next green valley, stone terraskami-amfiteatrikami flowing down downwards, the next far picturesque ridges, here and there is hardly-hardly looked through "bottom" - lowland Patary, our tomorrow's purpose. In picturesque pine wood among numerous identical terraces marks have led to two stone "tanks-sources", then as always, suddenly were gone, after long searches suddenly were, where it least expected - and have deduced on open space! The sea! Huge dark blue boundless, such far sea! 500 metres of the height, an open slope - and zamechatelnejshaja a talus. The track as that here is absent - there is only a marking on the stones, forming krrrutejshy adrenalinejshy serpantinchik! It if in dry weather - and if from above has again charged tiresome lasting many hours dozhdichek!? Remains nothing - how to go going PRECISELY on marks (and it here through each metre), a bad word remembering that masochist whom all the first here went also it painted. To slide on sypuhe, periodically landing a palm in prickly bushes, constantly to balance under a backpack foully dragging away downwards, to trust wet, but nevertheless holding coupling with a sole in stones. The raincoat on the body excited from constant pressure - dries already faster, than becomes wet from a rain. And the thought turns in a head only one is not descent is full … hm … dozhdets! 400 m of dump - and at last feet have stepped into an equal carpet of needles of pine wood, over a head magnificent crones - here, very much were reliably closed in time, and office of heaven has switched off a rain. Water from above it is certainly good, the potable water question now for us was more actual. Searches in dense wet green thickets in vicinities next kempingovogo poselochka have led to a source. However, a source and on a sound to find easy - frogs there well very with inspiration sing! The sea nearby! In any unfortunate 50 metres below. On stones long persisted in there-here, but an equal place for camp directly close exhausting and was not. Though, as have learnt subsequently, descent is, somewhere on approaches to village we in search of a source have slipped it. It is necessary to admire only beauty with casually found beautiful viewing ploshchadochki. Small pljazhiki, stone taluses, pine wood - Ajazma neither to give, nor to take! And turn in other party - the long cape in the sea leaves, dry pines, rocks - the most typical Sentry-both. Prstanishchem tired pilgrims for today's night there was a thrown olive garden. Exactly, chilly, florets blossom, there is even a pair kostrishch, sea noise is quite audible and if to get on a nearby stone - even it is visible! «Today we will have a Last Supper!» - Cyril has solemnly proclaimed - «???» - «well as, after all at night before a crucifixion they in an olive grove gathered!» Well-yes, well-yes, night before a crucifixion, a full moon, still Friday 13 today, crimson mountains in sunset beams - well them to hell, such associations!:)) Total: There are passed 19,5 km. Ascent of 840 m. Dump of 1170 m. Current height of 50 m. n.u.m On May, 14th. Blue infinity of Patary. Once again having grumbled a little on founders of the Likijsky Track for their love to the sea it is exclusive on distance - have turned a back to a blue distance - and … it is correct - again infinite "upwards". Actually, on this site there is also a path «a traverse along the sea», probably, even equal, but that we, not tourists, whether that, besides did not submit very long ago tops. Pine wood, again ubiquitous stone "tanks" - this time impressive, with stone pool! Marks have disappeared akkurat before the leader somewhere sharply upwards tropochkoj. And tropochka has resulted on vershinku, and further - deadlock. And with vershinki - opened such «AH!» The beach! A huge, empty, pure, infinite beach uncontrollably attracting to!!! To take here so, yes to flush towards like a bird! Or though to that butterfly. neeeet, tropochka - it artful, it yet one coil a traverse will twirl, upwards-downwards sends on errands, and then takes yes will push out on asphalt among wood. Over asphalt road ruins of an ancient fortress from above have been noticed. Our desire to get acquainted with antiquities is closer marks on a track quite divided, has confidently brought to low, only just without removing a backpack on karachkah to be entered, to an input. Grey stones of an old laying so precisely to the friend-friend are adjusted - drawing, as at a turtle on an armour. In walls of a fortress of a track was not. There in general was nothing - a tall weeds and stones. In search of the second exit have walked on perimetre. Then have a little more walked. Then it is a little pokarabkalis on stones. Actually, the breach in an opposite wall is - but akkurat in an extensive bog! To understand a strategic plan ancient Likijtsev we have despaired, and, having finished a lap of honour have returned to an input. The way description, track in GPS and Cyril's reason unanimously repeated to us that a correct way - around, from the sea. But thirst of immediate bathing has rejected absolutely all arguments of reason, have trusted in a modest first coat going in the necessary direction, forced on the shaky bridge small river at mountain bottom - and here it - a beach! The BEACH! So, capital letters and with all respect. The sight - transparent blue infinity something playfully whispering belokruzhevnyh how much suffices waves. Also it is light a grey, equal runway in the horizon! And on all this magnificence - only five persons yes one voluntary joined dog. Had dinner, have bathed, hardly it was possible to find out at met rjukzachnyh «brothers on reason» earlier that in 5 kilometres also water is. Also have gone! On the most lacy belopennoj kromochke. Sand is licked and stamped by waves almost to asphalt density, springs underfoot, it would be desirable to run, be turned, dance in a surf strip, to fly and cry out with happiness. Hour has flown by, as one instant, have stopped, only having seen the first people on a beach, wooden construction ashore, and suddenly grown turbid sea waters - the further way were partitioned off by the river running into the sea. Construction has appeared a cafe working only during a season. A wooden scaffold with a canopy, a wooden small house with "conveniences", a pipe with fresh water, the solar battery - and protecting all it kindly, missed dialogue with people the watchman. The garrulous watchman has appeared also rather prudent. Took from us on a small money (6 lyres from a nose), has allowed to use water, a shower, a brazier, tents on a scaffold to put, plank beds to take, in general - have a rest, children! Have a rest - but also the solar battery guard, look, watch, that anybody did not touch - and itself has sat down on a motorcycle - and happy, has fallen down in the village. Such spontaneously turned out poludnevkoj remained are happy all. Bathed … sunbathed, wandered on a beach … again bathed … Tried to buy fresh fish at going in motorke along coast and fishermen extending network - fishermen of intention of the person shouting and skipping on coast desperately waving an empty package and money, alas, have not understood. In the evening the quite good entertaining program was - a decline showed. And you sit at a little table, seagulls sip - life has gone right! Total: There are passed 12 km. Ascent of 400 m. Dump of 500 m. Current height of parking of 0 m. n.u.m On May, 15th. Hothouses and ruins. Luxury of Kalkana. Prickly rocks. Morning, despite 0 m. n.u.m, has stood out cold, fresh and windy. Slowly put on in bathing suits, gathered, adjusted on forthcoming speeding up of a water barrier. Pamjatuja the rivulet overcome yesterday, thought that there will be a maximum on … well to someone and on a belt. To 9 mornings there has arrived the happy watchman, having learnt about our intentions - already eyes has approximated! - «Yes you that - there 5 metres of depth!» Mdaa … to Check it wanted to nobody - it was necessary - to say goodbye one to the sea and to go deep into valleys, to a civilisation, under already scorching late morning the sun, on road along infinite bogs. Went short dashes from one weak shade to another, entertaining brains logic games. An hour later the infinite bog was replaced by infinite hothouses. In both parties - how much the sight will suffice - cucumbers, tomatoes, even a rose under glass and a film. Any pity hovels, it is visible there and then workers of hothouses and live. The village then became more civilised, the road became the paved tile street, houses became stone, even the shop was. Have bought edibles, have indulged itself with ice-cream. On our request fairly to buy (!) a tomato the owner only has burst out laughing, has dived into a nearby hothouse, the tomato and pepper has come up with huge kulkom fresh, only from a bush. On an exit from village - the next historical ruins, ruins of the ancient city of Letoona - a sacred city of Likijsky federation. The city name has occurred from a name Summer, Apollo and Artemis's mothers. It we rub to mythical characters three local temples have been devoted. There is a legend that: … the nymph was Summer loved Zevsa. Jealous wife Zevsa goddess Gera constantly pursued it and did not give rest. In search of a place where it would be possible to give birth easy to children of Zevsa - twins Apollo and Artemis, it has stopped at a source to get drunk. But local shepherds have driven her away. After safe sorts Summer has returned back to a source and has punished shepherds who have not allowed to it to satisfy thirst, having transformed them into frogs. Nowadays ruins of a temple and a source with carefree croaking descendants of those frogs are partially restored by skilfully disguised semi-antique concrete inserts, partially shipped in a bog. The bulk of not bad remained antique amphitheatre the input in which conducts through covered gallery nearby rises. We have climbed through on territory as always - through a hole in a fence. In the same place some also have got out. The others have decided to show consciousness on an exit and to support Turkish economy. Midday. A heat. Closeness of narrow small streets of settlement. plavitsja asphalt and brains. To go on a civilisation already has bothered. Having conferred, have solved the remained days before departure to Cappadocia to devote to research of a coastal site of a track from Kalkana to Patary, thus having closed a ring and leaving to an opposite extremity of beach so fallen in love to us. Directly villages in the middle have caught poputku to Ksantosa, have examined one more ruins, and at last, have plunged in dolmush to Kalkana. Had not time to concern seats - there and then all were cut down by a dream. Kalkan. Picturesque small town, white terraces sbegajushchy in the sea. Well-groomed both clean. Flowers and palm trees. A city of continuous hotels and rich country houses. And if a fence in private territory - that necessarily stone and two-metre. The general direction of our track clearly, but the exact track - found in the Internet last year's, and suburbs Kalkana in this time have strongly expanded and built up. To stray upwards downwards it was necessary much while before eyes favourite marks at last have not loomed. We have seen marks - and here actually a track - are not present. As tried. It seems that last time here passed only it razmetchik. And that was a mountain goat. And, dwarfish. Diving under prickly trees, moving apart prickly bushes, being spread between stones, we were tore out from lesochka on a hillock slope. And further - all the same. But - a traverse over 100 metre breakage with an obligatory kind on the most beautiful bay! Trees - if grow, on the site most convenient for pass. And if you want a branch to round, it is obligatory vpechataeshsja in any especially prickly bush. One cannot say that was absolutely steeply - always is both where a foot to put and where by a hand to be hooked. But strashnovato. And if you look back back - to define, where you went minute before - is already absolutely unreal. And the main thing, blinded by beams of the coming sun, an eye obstinately cling for far remarkable pljazhik in a bay and fondly all this marked disgrace there would be desirable to trust that and will result. It is desirable before dark. After an hour of clambers, to prickly trees and bushes prickly stones were added. And it is necessary to be tightened, clinging to them hands. Have then jumped it is sensitive on a remarkable talus and when underfoot it became suddenly equal, and eyes have rested in kamenjuku with an inscription «5А» - all has uncontrollably punched on laughter - a pier, kategorijnyj pass have passed!:)) And the path as a result has deduced to an enormous ancient stone viaduct on a remarkable equal pure clearing with kostrishchami. All a place for parking well - only the nearest source of fresh water in kilometre, on autorefuelling on a line. And descent to that desired pljazhik from here, of course, is - but to search for it already at anybody there was no desire. Already in twilight collected fire wood, put tents, Cyril has followed water, is closer at night even have bungled vkusnejshy marching soup "in Turkish". Quietly sparks of yachts in a bay, despite security rocks exchanged winks, on parking the warm breeze walked. Having given itself pledge that tomorrow we by all means will pljazhnichat - with that and have fallen asleep. On May, 16th. Long road over the sea. Good-bye, Lycia! In the morning, meditating over rather conditional «an official card» tracks, it was necessary to make a choice - whether to go in Pataru over the sea or through a line. The first offer sounded much more nicely, but through for an hour or two we have understood - that «over the sea» - means - highly - highly "over". Only one time closely the track has rested against a nice small lonely beach, we have afforded a few pleasure of a sea bathing, and further stupidly, long, tiresomely sawed and sawed to open space on heat to pass, have then thrown a melancholy sight at all this beauty from above - and have understood that the evening bus to Cappadocia will not wait for us, and to road service station of Antalya still all two with superfluous hundreds kilometres. Fast perekus under a concrete canopy somewhere among small streets of Patary, poputka to Kalkana - and here already beauty of the others which yet have been not subdued, sites of the Likijsky track flash before eyes with speed of the long-distance bus. And the sight marks key points - «Chchchert, there should be at the person a future!» Settlements and small towns, a dizzy streamer, road equal as an arrow, kilometres are reeled up and reeled up on wheels. The decline burns down, night muffles up mountains in a black plaid, and people in a dream … very soon them are waited by new adventures … Svetlana Korotkov, Vladimir.